


A fateful attempt of Self-therapy

by SonnenFlower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cards Against Muggles, Crack, Dementors, Did I Mention Crack?, Facebook: Hermione's Nook, Hermione's Nook's Cards Against Muggles Crack Fest, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Magazin Style, Other, POV First Person, Podcast: Fanatical Fics and Where to Find Them, Room of Requirement, Room of Requirement Shenanigans, Submitted for “Yes Glitter!”, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonnenFlower/pseuds/SonnenFlower
Summary: Let's get this out of the way. The war was fucking hard on me, but I’m not sure it’s an excuse for the story I’m going to share.
Relationships: Dementors/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 22
Collections: Cards Against Muggles Crack Fest





	A fateful attempt of Self-therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Fist of all, Mama, Papa this is exectly the story I toled you NOT to read! You are adults and of course I can't forbit you anything, but I tried to warn you.
> 
> Same goes for everyone else. Read the tags, if you don't like them, don't read this.
> 
> For the last 2 readers left; I'm so happy you're here! This was written for the Hermione's Nook Cards against Muggle fest with the prompt: Black Card 'The Room of Requirement had just what I needed: ___.' White Card 'Dementors that suck your soul out through your dick.'
> 
> For the last reader left, I did have fun writing it, with some Gin in the middle of the night and I'm still not sure if I don't need a mind healer myself.
> 
> A huge thank you as usual to my alpha ancientwolf, and my beta KoraKunkel as well as LunaRavenclaw9.

**How I realized I should visit a mind healer**

_ In this retelling, it doesn’t matter which side of the war someone was on. This is a story of how a war survivor learned they needed to visit a mind healer. To protect the person brave enough to tell their story, this is anonymised. Please remember, visiting a mind healer is not a sign of weakness but shows a lot of strength. If you feel you are in need of help yourself, please do not hesitate to contact the 24-hour help-flow. You can reach it under ‘mind healer support: Saint Mungos’. _

**A fateful attempt of self-therapy**

Let's get this out of the way. The war was fucking hard on me, but I’m not sure it’s an excuse for the story I’m going to share. Yes, I had a fucked up childhood and school was no different. The constant interference - and to be straight here, murder attempts - of a nameless, noseless arsehole for sure didn’t help either. Still, even now, I can’t fully comprehend what happened on that fateful day but let me try to paint you a picture.

The war is over. Just one day melting to the next and all purpose is gone. There is so much to do and everyone feels like I was needed - everyone besides myself. 

I was just an insecure 17-year-old with very few friends left, yet we were declared heroes to the world. The Unbreakables, the Golden Ones, the Saviors of the wizarding world. What a farce. In the end, we were only surrounded by people who left a bunch of teenagers to save their arses and instead of giving us time to cope, we were expected to rebuild our society on top of everything we already did. 

I mean seriously guys? We already won the war for you, can you do at least that much by yourselves?

We were teenagers, some of us still are but no one was willing to cut us even the slightest bit of slack. We weren’t allowed to fear, to try something, to make mistakes! We were the Hallowed Ones, and Merlin forbid we wouldn't hold up to the standards you set for us!

But there came the day I couldn’t do it anymore. I was the first of our little group to break - none of my closest friends were even the slightest bit surprised by that, not even myself. But it didn’t take long for the others to follow my lead once more.

I was expected to visit Azkaban for a press conference after one of the Death Eater trials. It was a typical school trip while you are close to your exams, Azkaban - doesn’t everyone visit before they graduate? Well, to say it didn’t go quite as planned would be the understatement of the century. Dementors always got to me, almost everyone knew this already. Meeting them AFTER all the war bullshit? Let’s just say their effect on me hadn’t gotten any better but I was expected to be there; I was one of THEM, of the Golden Ones and the masses needed to see me. They spewed some bullshite about the hope I represented for the new world they were rebuilding - really who believes in such bullshite anyway - but I was there nevertheless. 

Seeing myself lose my mind on the front page of the Prophet was motivating, to say the least. I knew I would need to return one day - that was what was expected of me. I had to prove this was just a small slip up, I had to defeat my fear... And what better way to train than within the Room of Requirement?

Well, the problem with that room is it gives you exactly what you ask it for instead of what you need. Now imagine for a moment you are a 17-year-old young man with a newfound interest in sex - I mean the war was over, I finally had time to explore my sexuality and why shouldn’t I? There was not much else fun to do those days. 

Nothing could go wrong with this plan, could it?

On the first walk along the wall, I wished for ‘A form of dementor that could teach me to not be so afraid of them anymore’. At the second turn, I wished, ‘Give me a way to interact with dementors without screaming in fear’. And then came the third turn. If you haven’t yet figured out how my flawless plan to get rid of my dementor-phobia could have gone south, try to think harder.

When I turned for my third walk along the wall, a man came into my view. He strolled down the corridor, sucking on a lollipop of all things. A lollipop! He didn’t see me - I think - but he looked so utterly ravishable and all I could think of at that moment was him on his knees in front of me. 

You could say we didn't have the best history at that point, so I turned around, opened the door that appeared in that moment and fled my own imagination. I mean, who could have known that what was in that room was much more worrisome than that glimpse of a sexual fantasy with my school time nemesis?

Well, you may have realised it's about to get much worse - probably,  _ hopefully _ \- but I couldn’t at that point. The door closed and I had no clue what I had gotten myself into. 

The room looked like Professor Lupin's old DADA classroom, with the blackboard, desks and even some forgotten quills scattered across the floor. Next to the teacher’s desk stood an old cupboard; I would have recognized that cupboard anywhere. It didn’t belong in that classroom - sure there had been a cupboard when we were learning about boggarts, but this cupboard... This cupboard was the old one from under the stairs of my aunt and uncles.

I still can’t figure out why it was there. I’ve made sense of most of the rest of the things I am about to describe, but I have no idea why this particular detail showed up. Maybe the Room of Requirement got a bit more damaged during the war than I had expected, who knows? I, for one, never went back to find out after this experience.

Before I tell you the next part you have to understand, I trusted the Room wholeheartedly. It kept my friends safe during the worst times at Hogwarts. It had always felt like a safe haven to me, even after that toad Umbridge had penetrated it, even though Crabbe died here. The Room had kept me alive and I was sure there was no harm awaiting me.

Reminiscent to our class about the boggarts, the cupboard opened on its own. Except this time no one tackled me out of the way - I’m still not sure if that was an improvement or not.

A dark, hooded figure slowly glided out of the cupboard but, instead of the all-consuming cold aura characteristic for Dementors, I was hit with a wave of heat.

I didn’t know where it was coming from. My cloak suddenly felt like an oppressive weight on my shoulders. That should have been my first red flag but I just shook it off, took off my cloak and watched the hooded figure move closer. It still looked like a dementor and it floated like one, but something was off. 

The cloak seemed to be some type of fluid, gauzy material that transfixed my eyes. It flowed around the figure as if a warm summer breeze was holding it in place. Not able to look away, the heat was increasing in intensity as pictures suddenly appeared in my mind.

Pictures I hadn’t ever thought of before - at least not that I would admit under any circumstances. White blond hair, a silver and green wrapped arse on a broomstick, a glimpse of a porcelain colored collar bone, a hint of very male shaped V muscles and pink lips sucking on a lollipop.

The heat surrounded me as I felt my blood begin to pool in my lower regions. I stopped thinking altogether.  I COULDN’T THINK. Even if I had tried. Please keep that in mind dear reader. Please!

The heat was moving something in me - literally. I suddenly felt my pants become too constricting. I had to get rid of them, but it didn’t really help so I got rid of my underpants as well. It felt like the right thing to do at that moment, just to flee everything that was holding me down - holding me back.

The Dementor - don’t ask me what it really was, a friend of mine tried to explain it as some product of my fantasy manifested through the room, but honestly, even I wouldn't come up with something like that, would I? Well,  _ the thing  _ was still coming closer and my mind short-circuited.

The fantasies I felt lurking just outside my reach were assaulting me at full force now. My school time nemesis kneeling on the floor in front of me. Silver eyes with blown black pupils looking up in adoration, his pale hand grabbing my cock tenderly. My eyes shot open for the first and last time that evening. All I saw was a mesmerizing pile of fabric flowing around at the floor between my legs and a white, bony, long-fingered hand holding my prick framed by my somehow open shirt. 

I shuddered at that sight. The heat retreated me as I cowered back and shut my eyes, to black out the terrifying picture in front of me, I guess. But as my eyes closed, the fantasy returned. 

Tender fingers massaging my balls and eyes with pupils blown so wide they looked like a black hole in a silvery circle of infinite dreams. Full, pink lips mesmerizingly licked by a coy tongue smirked lightly at me before they opened up and replaced the tender hand.

Images of the lollipop were still stuck in my head when the, oh so talented, mouth wrapped itself around the head of my manhood, slowly sucking it deeper and deeper. The moist heat threatened to overwhelm all my senses. There was no slow build-up, no teasing, not even the hint of someone trying to prolong it. There was only me and my cock with those luscious pink lips wrapped around it, crowned by silver eyes and framed with white-blond locks that were looking quite disheveled as I kept going, deeper and deeper chasing the release that was still just outside my reach.

It was as if a vital part of myself was ripped free when I was at the brink of falling over the edge. A force pulled at me -not the physical me but something that made the intimate parts of me, well… me. 

My eyes - still closed - were locked with the silver pools of promise that looked up at me from between my thighs. The ghost of a smirk showed in those eyes when their keeper gulped around my length and I slid even further down his throat.

I can’t even describe what I was feeling in that moment. It was as if everything I had ever desired was granted to me in that fraction of a second where my prick slid down the throat of my long-time obsession. The heat finally overflowed and while starting to empty myself, I screamed a name. THAT name. Shocked at myself, I ripped open my eyes and was confronted with the sight of a slightly askew hood and a skeleton-like head still sucking at my cock. 

Screaming for a whole new reason now, I tried to turn around and get away from  _ the thing _ in front of me. My prick seemed to have other ideas as it continued to blow load after load onto the suddenly dull-looking fabric that most definitely was  _ not _ floating in an ethereal way anymore.

I bolted as soon as my legs were listening to me again. I ran right out of the door, wearing nothing more than my shoes and an open button-down. Outside the door, I was again met with white hair and silvery eyes that traveled down my scarcely clad body. I must have looked like a deer in headlights since all he said was, ‘If all your wishes turn you into such a state, you should probably contact a mind healer, Golden Boy.’

And that was exactly what I did, right after I found myself a new pair of pants.


End file.
